


Me and My Shadow

by rivers_bend



Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Crossover, M/M, feral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec's in heat and he's not going to let the tall, mysterious stranger following him get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and My Shadow

It's not usually a problem to look like you have no idea you're being followed. Not when you've been trained by Manticore anyway. Alec doesn't actually know how hard it is for normals; it's not anything he's ever considered, and he's not starting now. But when your blood is thrumming with _now now now_ and your dick's practically wrapped back around your hip to point at the guy doing the following—saying _**he's** the one, the one, the one_— it complicates things a little.

This is why he was supposed to stay inside tonight.

Alec's stalker wasn't in Crash—or if he was he was hiding in the bathroom or something, because tonight of all nights Alec would have turned like a homing beacon on someone that tall, that broad, oozing that much glaring sex-appeal—but the guy was either waiting outside or there was a fantastic coincidence of timing going on, because he's been dodging shadows on the other side of the street since Alec left the club. He's staring like he knows Alec knows he's there. Like he expects Alec to know not only that, but who the guy is and why he's following Alec home. Sure Alec's hormones have hopes, but otherwise he hasn't got a clue. It's okay though, because all that is information Alec plans on having soon. Just as soon as he gets his stalker behind closed doors.

The squat is dingy, but no worse than most of the places in Seattle these days, so Alec is surprised when the guy hangs back, doesn't follow him inside. Any other night he'd leave it, think it was just as well, who needs the hassle, but the heat in his blood is having none of that, so when Mr. Tall-and-Broad just stands outside watching the doorway like it's going to answer all his questions, Alec goes out the back and circles around to make his stalker the stalkee.

"What?" he says from over the guy's shoulder. Not from behind him like he planned, because the guy clearly isn't a complete idiot and he has his back to the wall.

Not an idiot, but not better than Alec; the voice in his ear makes him jump. Just a little, but noticeable to a transgenic.

When he speaks, his voice is steady though. "You're not Dean," he says. Steady but… disappointed?

"No. Is that why you were following me?" Alec stops. Shouldn't have said even that, asking questions usually gives more information than it yields, but the want is coming off this guy in waves, and it's fucking with Alec's equilibrium. He wants _in_, under this guy's skin, wants those hands to scratch his itch.

"Sorry," the guy says and makes like he's gonna leave. But he still has his back against the wall, and while that helps stop people sneaking up behind you, it means anyone in front of you is between you and escape.

"Who's Dean?" Alec's right up in the guy's space, the zipper of his jacket making friends with the guy's shirt, the cuff of his jeans getting intimate with the guy's boot.

"He's my—" the guy starts, but the want flowing off him is too much for Alec's heat to ignore any longer, and Alec jumps for his mouth, pulling him down by the back of his neck, biting at his lips, taking the distance between their hips from slim to none.

It's not elegant, and it's not how Alec usually tries to do this, and he's expecting a fist in the face or a knee in the groin, but after a moment's surprise the guy hooks an arm around Alec's waist, cups a hand around the back of his head, and half lifts Alec off his feet to bring him closer.

For the first time, Alec wonders if he's found another transgenic.

They go at it right there in the street, frantic kissing like they're trying to climb inside each other's mouths, and Alec's on _fire_ needing heat, friction, _more_, not caring about curfews or patrols or anything when suddenly the guy drops him. Shoves him away.

"Can't," he says. "You're not— Can't." He scrubs at his mouth like Alec's dirty and he's got to get the taste off.

"Can't _stop_," Alec says, half a demand, half a warning. He can smell need like the ocean, oil slick of guilt on the surface, and he's caught in the undertow, half-drowned by his own need and too weak to swim out. His hands hook into the guy's waistband, holding on.

"Fuck." The guy sounds like he's choking on the word and he grips Alec by the shoulders, searching Alec's face like his life depends on what he finds there.

"My place," Alec finally grinds out, jerking his head back towards the squat. It feels like they're welded in this little tableau, Alec's knuckles digging into soft-hard abs, fingers digging bruises into his shoulders.

"Fuck," the guy says again, but then, softer, "Ok. Yeah. Ok."

Alec doesn't let go the guy's jeans until the door's bolted behind them, and only then because he needs both his hands to get out of his clothes before they burst into flames. "You got a name?" he asks once his face is free of his shirt.

"Sam."

"Alec." No need for 'Nice ta meetcha's'. Not when he's already had the guy's tongue down his throat.

Sam looks a little stunned now he's here, so Alec abandons his own undressing efforts and starts pulling Sam's clothes off instead. The place is a mess, but Alec doesn't trip once when he drags Sam over to the bed.

First things first, now they're out of their clothes, Alec rolls Sam over and checks his neck. No tattoo. No feline DNA driving him, his strength no mutation. And clearly not the first time he's been on his stomach, because he arches his back and spreads his legs in as clear an invitation as Alec's seen. It's an invitation Alec can't resist.

The scent of _mansweatsex_ is potent and Alec is dizzy with it. He bites the clean skin of Sam's neck, licks it, and hums reply to Sam's moan. Nearing its peak, the cycle driving him allows Alec to sense the pheromones coming off Sam's skin like they're colored smoke. Sniffing and tasting, he makes his way down Sam's spine towards the source of all those good smells. Climbing between Sam's thighs, he spreads Sam open further and tastes.

_sexsexsexsex_ Alec is out of his head with it. There's nothing but need. Gripping Sam's hips, Alec flips him again and dives back in, sloppy wet lapping at his ass, his balls, up his cock to suck him down and then off again to bite bruises into his thighs before he's back to Sam's ass, licking deep, deeper, opening him up, drinking him down, getting him wet and ready for Alec's dick which is pounding a pulse all through him, _now now now nownownownownownownow_.

Sam is making desperate noises, grabbing at Alec's head, pulling him closer, suffocating him, but Alec isn't letting all that underwater training go to waste; he revels in the weight of Sam's junk on his cheek and works a finger in beside his tongue.

"Fuck, yes," Sam says and lets go Alec's head to pull his thighs up and make more room.

Two fingers is a tight fit, but Sam doesn't protest, just grinds down onto Alec's hand, panting and shaking when Alec spreads them apart and licks between them. Drool is dripping down his chin, slicking his fingers, and after a few minutes twisting, licking, fucking in and out, Alec slides a third finger in easily.

"Now, now, now," Sam says, echoing the thrum of Alec's blood and there's no more waiting.

Slicked up with precome and spit, Alec lines up and shoves into Sam's heat. He can't hold back, go slow, make it good, he needs in in in, pounding deep and hard, at the mercy of drives beyond his control. But Sam's pounding back just as hard, lifting his hips in sharp jerking thrusts, clawing at Alec's back and ass as though he were in the same thrall. It goes on forever and it's over before it's hardly begun.

The worst of the need dissipates with Alec's orgasm, but none of the hunger. Sam's still hard, cock arching up towards his belly, when Alec pulls out, so Alec sucks it wet and spreads his thighs over Sam's hips.

"Are you..?" Sam asks, looking concerned, hands cupping Alec's ass and fingers edging enquiringly towards his hole.

Needing the burn and ache, Alec doesn't waste time answering, he just pushes the head of Sam's dick past the initial resistance and sits. It's breathtaking and perfect, but Sam winces at the friction, so Alec lifts up enough to slick some of his own come onto Sam's dick and that eases the way. Sam's huge hands grip Alec's waist and help lift and move him to the rhythm Sam's setting.

Transgenic or no, in heat or no, Alec isn't a machine, and his thighs start to shake with the effort of fucking himself on Sam's huge, perfect cock. Sam seems to sense when they're about to give out and he lifts Alec all the way off and reverses their positions, hooking Alec's legs over his shoulders and driving back in so deep Alec's sure he could feel Sam inside him if he laid a hand on his stomach.

Sam's face is a storm of conflicting emotions that Alec has neither the skills nor the desire to untangle, so he pulls Sam down and kisses him, giving him an excuse to close his eyes. The change in angle increases the pressure in all kinds of delicious places (though Alec can tell his hips are going to resent him in the morning when he tries to get on his bike) and the press of Sam's belly makes Alec realize his dick's gone from not exactly complaining to hard and leaking again at some point between riding Sam's dick and Sam riding his ass. As much as he hates being a victim of these cycles, he cannot deny there are some really fucking awesome advantages too. When Sam starts losing his rhythm, Alec gets his hand between them and jerks himself to a second orgasm just as Sam's collapsing onto the bed beside him.

For several minutes there's nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the thick smell of spunk, then sirens start up in the distance, making Sam stir.

"You can stay," Alec says, surprising himself.

"I—"

"If you have nowhere to go, I mean." Alec never wants them to stay. But he can't seem to stop. "No strings, no conversation, even. Just a place to sleep tonight. It's not a good time to be out."

"I…" Sam says again, clearly torn.

Alec just waits, wondering what about Sam makes Alec think it's safe to fall asleep with another person in the room.

Alec feels like he's holding his breath when Sam finally says, "Yeah. Thanks."

There's a bottle of washing water on the counter and Alec considers playing host, giving Sam something to clean up with, but he can't be bothered. Lassitude is setting in, so he just pulls up the blanket and, listening to Sam's even breathing, lets sleep claim him.

In the morning the water is boiling before Alec remembers that there should have been someone else in his bed when he woke up. He checks the door, but somehow Sam locked it from the outside when he left. Alec's bike is still next to the broken refrigerator, none of the stuff he's managed to collect since he got to the city is missing; the only thing gone is Sam.

Dressed and with his first cup of coffee under his belt, Alec carries his bike down the stairs, leaning it against his hip when he gets to the street, adjusting the strap of his bag. Then, casually weaving his way through the morning crowds, Alec walks his bike to the Jam Pony office. After the pounding he took last night no one would blame him for wanting to minimize the time spent in the saddle today. Besides, it makes it easier for the now-familiar shadow across the street to follow him to work.

**Author's Note:**

> In my version of the post-pulse world, AIDS never existed. They have enough to deal with.


End file.
